


Broken

by Lisbeth_laufeyson



Category: Spartacus Series (TV), Spartacus: War of the Damned
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:35:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23983186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lisbeth_laufeyson/pseuds/Lisbeth_laufeyson
Summary: Agron has returned when he was thought dead, but he is not the man he was and his reunion with Nasir is far from the joyous affair it should be
Relationships: Agron/Nasir
Comments: 4
Kudos: 51





	Broken

**Author's Note:**

> Being a canon pairing, their story is pretty much fully written and I'm kinda just putting my own thoughts to things not seen on the screen. I'm not entirely sure how this flows or if it fits into the space between the scenes (basically between Crixus's funeral and Nasir giving Agron the shield/sword weapon) but these are my thoughts. I hope you like it :)

The mood in camp was a strange one. Many thought lost had been returned to them. Roman blood had been spilled in memory of those that would never be back, and hearts had been stirred with the promise to fight for those gone. And yet something hung in the air, an agitation that would not settle while Crassus' armies stood so close by. Many would make it into the mountains, but to do so others had to go and fight. More would be lost, that was a certainty, and it deflated their victory somewhat.  
At least that was how Nasir felt. He was reunited once more with Agron, he should have felt... something, anything, but there was nothing in his heart, no love, no hatred, no anger. He had felt something when he had first laid eyes on Agron again, but he couldn't quite describe it. Perhaps because he had spent so long on the edge of rage or in a grief so deep he didn't have the capacity for cruelty to believe such pain could exist before he felt it? Maybe it was natural to feel such a way when what you had prayed for was given back in such a cruel way?  
Agron was beaten in a way that went beyond the physical hurts he had received. The fire in his eyes was extinguished, his lips devoid of their usual smile. He clung to Nasir and had done so since returning to the camp. All through Crixus' funeral he had stood by Nasir's side, his arm on his shoulder not comforting or seeking affection but simply leaning and now, as they wandered back towards Nasir's tent, his arm rested there still, out of necessity.  
They stepped into the tent together and Nasir directed Agron to sit on the bed, a bed they had shared a lifetime ago, before Agron had chose....  
No! That line of thought wasn't helpful. He was back now, bloodied, yes, broken, yes, but he was here, he was living, and he had the capacity to heal.  
Nasir knelt on the floor in front of Agron and started to pull off his boots. Agron gently kicked at his hands.  
“I am not incapable of these things,” he snapped.  
Nasir nodded. “I merely thought to--”  
Agron snarled at him. “You have never done these things before. Do not think to do them now, out of pity.”  
“Pity?” Nasir got to his feet. “I have removed your clothes, tended your wounds, bathed you, and all this you have done for me too. Out of love! Never has it been borne of pity.”  
Agron glared. “Then what does move you to such tender ministrations towards one who turned his back on you?”  
Nasir looked down at the floor of the tent. “A heart that still holds you in high regard.”  
Agron snorted. “Then it is a fools heart.”  
Nasir bit his lip so hard he tasted blood. His hands shook as he flexed his fingers and refused to ball them into fists. Agron was hurting and lashing out. What man having been robbed of his purpose would not act in such a way?  
“I merely offer assistance. I do not pity you, Agron.”  
“You cannot hide what is in your eyes.” Agron's voice softened. “I see it in them all. I have fallen from their admiration and love. A general who can no longer hold a sword.”  
“This will pass,” Nasir whispered. A lump rose in his throat. “Until it does allow me to be your hands.”  
“This will not pass!” Agron shouted. “They hammered nails through my palms, Nasir! I will never be the man I was. I cannot wield sword nor shield. I can barely hold my own cock to piss.”  
“But you live!” Nasir snapped. “And many who left on Crixus's fools errand do not, including the man himself.”  
Agron glared. He stood and stepped towards Nasir, using their height difference to tower over him. Nasir stood his ground, hands shaking once more, lip rising in a snarl. Agron's reddened eyes searched his face.  
“Should I be grateful for a supposed mercy those Roman shits showed me?”  
“Yes!” Nasir said firmly. “Because you are here. You are free.”  
“Free to do what? I cannot be some simple farmer in the hills as you well know!” He laughed harshly. “Would you have me tend goats and piss my life away?”  
“I ask only that you live!” Nasir hissed, echoing words Agron had spoken to him what seemed a lifetime ago.  
Agron rolled his eyes. “Perhaps it would be better if I did not.”  
The slap Nasir delivered rang out sharply in the tent. Agron stared at Nasir, his eyes wide in shock. Blood trickled down his lip.  
“Do you seek to wound me deeper than you already have?” Nasir shouted. “Is it not enough that you cast me aside to chase glory and death?”  
“I know no other way!”  
“Then fucking learn!” Nasir growled through gritted teeth. He took a deep breath, forcing his tears back. “I fight for freedom, for my own and others, and I fight for you. I do not pick up spear in the hopes my end will be on the battlefield, I do so to make sure I leave it once more, with as many people as I can keep safe around me. What do you fight for?”  
Agron fell silent and his gaze dropped to the floor. “I fought for vengeance.”  
Nasir snorted a laugh. “Would it not be a better vengeance to live? To be happy? To grow old despite all that Rome has done to prevent that?”  
Agron sat on the bed, his head bowed, arms wrapped around his abdomen. Nasir chewed his lip. He grabbed a bowl, filled it with water, and soaked a rag. Without a word he tilted Agron's head up and began to clean the blood and dirt from his face.  
Slowly, Agron's arms encircled his waist and he pulled him close. He sighed deeply and buried his face into the crook of Nasir's neck. Nasir was slow to respond, but eventually, gently hugged him, wary of wounds that may have been hidden from his eyes. He cradled Agron's head and tenderly brushed his fingers through his hair. Agron's shoulders shook with silent sobs. His arms tightened around Nasir until they could not get closer together.  
After a moment Nasir untangled himself from him and continued cleaning Agron's face, even the tears the continued to fall. Agron sat silent, only moving with Nasir coaxed him to so he could better tend to another wound.  
“I fight for you,” Agron whispered. “I raise my sword so you can forge your way into new lands, with the others who deserve their freedom because they will not waste it on petty vengeance and blood lust, and I will continue to fight however I can for those who never got a chance to be free but so richly deserved it.”  
“You deserve it,” Nasir said. “Who has fought as long or as hard as you?”  
“Perhaps there is a reason I have been allowed to live this way?” Agron attempted to flex his hands.  
Nasir nodded, barely daring to hope Agron was having a change of heart. “Battles are not won with steel alone.”  
Agron smiled. “Must you always be so wise? And so tender with the care of one who hurt you so deep?”  
Nasir bit his lip bloody, but it was not enough anymore. His vision blurred. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to Agron's and held his face in his hands. “Nothing you could say or do will ever match the pain of thinking you gone from this world.”  
Agron touched Nasir's cheek. “Your face was the last thing I saw when I believed death was upon me. I too know the pain of fearing I would never set eyes upon my heart again. The memory of your love sustained me through it all.”  
Nasir looked him in the eye. “It does not have to be a memory. We are together once more. We can go with the others into the mountains.”  
After a moment Agron nodded. “We could, yes.”  
Nasir hugged him and kissed his forehead, but his heart quickly sank. There was no excitement or hope in Agron's eyes at the thought of the mountains. He still lived for battle.

#  
Sleep would not come. Nasir lay on his back with Agron's arm over him, his freshly bandaged hand laying over his heart, where it belonged, and yet it felt wrong. The look in Agron's eyes had been unmistakable. He was not turning from the battlefield by choice but in absence of choice.  
Nasir knew his place. He would lead the others into the mountains, just as Spartacus had ordered, just has he had taken the safer route when their band had split so he could guard those who could not fight. He often took that route, not shying away from battle but not running blindly toward it either.  
Despite that he was a warrior. He fought just as hard as anyone when he was called upon. He commanded his own troops and trained anyone who could hold a sword or spear. Fighting men had to travel with those that could not, it would be foolish for them not to, but, for once, Nasir had a bad taste in his mouth at the thought of not being on the battlefield.  
Perhaps it was because he knew that was what Agron truly wanted. Agron would leave with him tomorrow but it would be with a heavy heart, and Nasir shared the sentiment. They had both changed, and with it their goals. Nasir sighed, he knew what he had to do.  
He left the tent, being careful not to wake Agron, and went looking for those who could help him in his quest. By morning he returned to the tent again with the means to allow Agron to fight just as his heart truly desired. Only this time Nasir would not be left behind, he would fight alongside him.


End file.
